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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950780">We Can Kill Some Time (Stay Home)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever'>owlways_and_forever</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Mischief They Create [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Ish) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Light Angst, Locked In, Slow Burn, lockdown - Freeform, musician!AU, quarantine fic, quarantine!au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mary meets a handsome stranger on the eve of the nationwide lockdown, it quickly becomes clear that a lot is about to change. She just doesn't quite realize how much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mary Macdonald/Frank Longbottom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Mischief They Create [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We Can Kill Some Time (Stay Home)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mary glanced up as a man approached the bar, dropping the duffel bag in his hands at his feet and collapsing onto his elbows on the countertop. He looked positively exhausted, but that didn’t conceal how handsome he was, with a narrow face and chiseled jaw. He gazed up at her with clear, Mediterranean blue eyes and Mary felt her breath catch in her throat.</p><p>“Old Speckled Hen if you have it, please,” he said in an enchanting voice.</p><p>“Sure thing,” she answered, shaking herself out of her awed state in order to get his beer.</p><p>Attractive guys came into the Three Broomsticks all the time, but this man was an entirely different level. He belonged on magazine covers. </p><p>“Stocking up for quarantine?” Mary asked as she slid his beer across the counter, alluding to the duffel bag by his feet. He was probably one of those people who’d heard the news and decided to go quarantine with his girlfriends or maybe his parents or something like that. </p><p>“What?” the man replied, clearly incredulous.</p><p>“Oh, your bag,” she explained, her cheeks turning pink in embarrassment, “I just assumed it was full of stuff for the new quarantine.”</p><p>“We’re going into lockdown again?” he asked, blue eyes wide.</p><p>“Yeah, you haven’t heard?”</p><p>“I just got off a plane, I haven’t heard anything,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Shit, I’m supposed to be on another flight tomorrow.”</p><p>“Oh that’s not happening,” Mary mused. “All flights are grounded as of midnight which is… about 40 minutes from now.”</p><p>“Crap,” he swore, dropping his head into his hands.</p><p>“Where are you trying to go?”</p><p>“Back home,” he said, grinning a little bit at Mary’s lost expression. “To Australia.”</p><p>“Goodness, that’s far,” she replied. “I don’t think you’ll be able to drive instead then.”</p><p>“No, probably not,” he laughed, a full smile breaking out across his face. “I guess I’ll just find a hotel or an AirBnB or something then until flights start running again.”</p><p>“You can try, but I think everything that isn’t booked pretty much shuttered its doors,” Mary said. “Plus lockdown is going to be at least a month, it’d cost you a fortune to stay at a hotel for that long.”</p><p>“I’m not really worried about the money,” the man replied, giving Mary a funny look. “Anyway, what else am I going to do? I’ve gotta sleep somewhere.”</p><p>“Well, you could stay with me if you like,” Mary offered in a small voice. It felt a bit odd to let a complete stranger stay in her flat, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “I’ve got a spare bedroom and I don’t mind the company.”</p><p>“Are you serious?” he asked, looking at her in surprise and confusion.</p><p>“Sure, why not? I mean, you’re not a serial killer or anything, right?”</p><p>“Right,” he answered, still wearing a confused-looking grin.</p><p>“Okay then, it’s settled,” Mary said, smiling. “We should be done here in about half an hour and then we can head home.”</p><p>The man was quiet as Mary busied herself with the cleaning and closing tasks that were necessary. It would be a while before they would be back in the pub, so just about everything had to be thrown out. He watched her while she worked with a quiet fascination, blue eyes following her around with curiosity. Once the few other patrons had left, he even helped her wipe down the tables and stack the chairs, dragging a mop across the floor. When they were finished, Mary grabbed her coat from the back room and bundled herself up against the cold night air. She flicked the lights off as they left and pulled the pub’s door closed behind them, locking it with a soft <em> click </em>. </p><p>They walked in silence for a while, but nighttime in the city had its own soundtrack. There was laughter in the distance and cars rumbled by on the streets. Somewhere far off, a siren sounded as an ambulance raced toward the hospital. A mix of Christmas music, heavy metal drumming and melodic pop vocals danced together in the air. </p><p>“Sorry, I don’t think we actually introduced ourselves,” Mary said after a while, the thought suddenly occurring to her that she didn’t know the stranger’s name and yet he was basically about to become her roommate.</p><p>“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked, giving her a curious look.</p><p>“Sorry, should I?” Mary asked, her cheeks blushing bright red with embarrassment. “Have we met before and I’ve forgotten? I’m so sorry!”</p><p>“No, i.t’s fine, I just assumed that’s why…” he looked a little bit surprised, but a smile slowly spread across his face. “Nevermind, it’s not important. I’m Frank.”</p><p>“Mary,” she replied with a soft smile.</p><p>“So you work at the pub,” Frank said, curious about his new lockdown buddy. “What are you going to do during lockdown, if you don’t mind my asking?”</p><p>“Actually I don’t,” Mary answered. “My sister and her husband own it, and I just help out sometimes when they need it. Her son was sick tonight, so she asked if I could manage closing the pub down for lockdown.”</p><p>“That’s really kind of you,” he replied.</p><p>“I don’t mind,” she shrugged. “I’ll be able to do plenty of work during lockdown, so I didn’t mind taking the night off to help them.”</p><p>“What is it you do?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m a doctoral candidate at the University,” she answered, blushing humbly. “So mostly I’m just working on my dissertation right now. I do teach a class though, and I’ve got a paper coming out with one of the faculty in the department.”</p><p>“What do you study?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. </p><p>“Linguistics. My dissertation is looking at the politics of language - how it can be used to include or exclude certain populations from government and such.”</p><p>“That sounds fascinating,” Frank replied, sounding thoroughly impressed.</p><p>“Thank you, I certainly think so,” Mary answered. “This is my building.”</p><p>She stopped in front of a handsome brick apartment building with wide windows. It had something of a converted warehouse feeling to it, but in a high end sort of way.</p><p>“Anyway, what do you do?” Mary asked as she led him through the door of the building and toward her flat.</p><p>“Oh, I work in the music industry,” Frank replied with a shrug, trying to make it sound more casual than it was.</p><p>“That sounds fun! Do you work for a label or something?” She looked at him with bright eyed curiosity as they climbed the stairs.</p><p>“Not exactly, I write songs mostly,” he said.</p><p>“That sounds fun! Are you good at it?”</p><p>“I think that’s quite a subjective question, but I do alright, yeah,” he chuckled.</p><p>“So would I know any?”</p><p>Frank thought carefully for a minute, going over the songs he had written for other artists.</p><p>“Do you know You’re Supposed to Love Me?” he asked.</p><p>“By the Prewett Brothers?” she clarified, and Frank nodded. “Sure, they played it all over the radio in the spring. You wrote that?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” he mused, smiling, clearly proud of his achievement.</p><p>“It’s a great song, and this is my flat,” Mary said, stopping in front of her door.</p><p>Suddenly she felt very nervous. Frank was a complete stranger, and she was about to let him into her flat - a private space that was decorated just the way she liked it, and furnished just how she wanted. It was personal and intimate and it felt strange to let someone see all of her personal possessions. What if he saw her flat and decided that she was crazy? Frank raised an eyebrow at her expectantly, and Mary took a breath, mustering her courage to unlock the door and push it open. </p><p>She hung her coat in the closet by the door and then led Frank down the narrow hallway. He meandered a bit more slowly than she did, looking at all the pictures she had hanging on the wall. Most were of her family and the travels they had taken all over the world - the more artistic ones she had hung in the living room. The wall broke to her left, a small little open space off of which stood the bathroom and both bedrooms.</p><p>“That’s the guest room,” Mary told him, pointing toward the back bedroom. “And the bathroom is in between and then my bedroom is over there.”</p><p>“Great,” Frank replied, opening the door to the guest bedroom and dropping his duffel inside before following her again. </p><p>Just a few steps further down the main hallway, a doorway opened onto the living room and kitchen. Frank smiled pleasantly as he took in the little sitting room. A small upright piano stood against one wall next to a cozy looking sofa. Across from them was a moderate sized television nestled between two enormous bookshelves. An extensive collection of books interspersed with trinkets from her travels adorned the shelves, giving the room a worldly feel. It was all very neat - tidy and well kept, with everything in its place.</p><p>“It’s lovely,” Frank said after looking around a little and admiring the cozy feel.</p><p>“Thank you,” Mary answered, sighing a little in relief as she blushed at the compliment. “It was my aunt’s flat, I lived here with her when I first started my studies. But then she passed away rather suddenly about two years ago, and left the flat to me.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear about your aunt,” he replied, frowning slightly.</p><p>“It’s alright,” she said softly. Mary never quite knew how to respond to such sympathies and condolences. She missed her aunt frequently, of course, but it had been so long now she no longer felt the grief like a sharp sting. “Are you hungry? I have some frozen pizza bites I can toast real quick if you want something to eat.”</p><p>“I think I’d just like to go to sleep, if it’s not rude,” he said, looking a little hesitant. </p><p>“Not at all, I should’ve realized… of course you’re probably exhausted,” Mary answered, quickly jumping into motion. She moved back toward the bedrooms, opening a little linen closet in the hallway. “Here’s a towel, and there’s spare toothbrushes and just about any other toiletries in here, just help yourself to anything you need.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he accepted graciously.</p><p>“Goodnight, Frank,” she said, as they both parted and moved towards their respective bedrooms.</p><p>“Goodnight, Mary,” he answered, closing the door.</p><p>Mary followed suit, closing the door quietly behind her and leaning her back against it for a moment. It felt a little weird to have a stranger staying in her home, but she felt confident that she had done the right thing. And he seemed nice enough, maybe they would even strike up a friendship that would last beyond the lockdown. She tried not to think about the way his blond hair fell across his forehead or imagine how the corners of his blue eyes would crinkle when he smiled. It just wouldn’t do to develop a crush on her new companion.</p><p>In the other bedroom, Frank eyed the little guest room with some trepidation. A beautiful seaside painting hung on the far wall in place of a window, a lovely mahogany chest of drawers standing beneath it. He began to unpack his duffel bag, stowing away his clothes in the chest and wishing he had a bit more. He certainly would have packed some different things if he’d known he’d be stuck there indefinitely. With a sigh, he sat down on the bed, trying to appreciate that this wonderfully kind and caring stranger had offered him a place to stay instead of feeling grumpy that he wasn’t on his way home.</p><p>“I guess this is home for now,” he whispered to himself before pulling off his sweater and trousers and crawling under the heavy comforter.</p><p>This whole thing would seem better in the morning. </p><p>o . o . o</p><p>Mary opened her eyes to find grey morning light streaming through her window. She blinked and reached for her glasses, looking outside. Snow was falling quickly past the window, already accumulating on the small ledge outside. She smiled - snow was her absolute favourite, and what better way to start off lockdown than with a snowy day spent in pajamas and hanging Christmas decorations?</p><p>She vaulted out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and pulling the front strands of her hair back so they weren’t in her face. Mary practically skipped toward the kitchen, cooking up thoughts of a lavish breakfast in her mind. She had been so excited by the snow, she’d completely forgotten about Frank, and jumped in surprise to find him sitting in her living room with a book.</p><p>“Oh, you’re awake,” she said, trying to mask her shock.</p><p>“Yeah, I thought about waiting until you were up, but it started to get a little late and -”</p><p>“No, of course!” Mary replied quickly. “You don’t have to hide in the bedroom until I get up, that would be silly. This is your home for the next couple of weeks, you needn’t tip toe around me.”</p><p>“Okay, good,” he answered with a smile, closing the book he was reading with a finger marking his page.</p><p>“Want some breakfast?” she asked, remembering her original purpose.</p><p>“God yes,” Frank agreed, his stomach growling at precisely that moment and making them both laugh a little.</p><p>Mary walked to the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients to make a decadent and delicious breakfast. It took half an hour, but when she was finished there were two plates full of bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, and cinnamon buns, and two piping hot mugs of tea. She placed it all on the coffee table with a satisfied smile and sat down on the couch next to Frank, pulling her feet up underneath her. </p><p>“So I was thinking of hanging up Christmas decorations today,” Mary said, breaking the awkward silence as they both tucked into their breakfasts.</p><p>“That sounds nice, bring a little cheer to the lockdown,” Frank answered through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.</p><p>“So you’ll help me?” Mary asked, raising an eyebrow hopefully.</p><p>“Of course,” he agreed with a smile that left Mary feeling a little bit breathless.</p><p>When they were finished eating, Mary went down to the little storage locker in the basement of the apartment building - a luxury few places afforded and for which she was eternally grateful - and brought up her box of Christmas decorations.</p><p>“I’m not sure what to do about a Christmas tree,” she admitted as she began unpacking the ruby red and gold decorations she had amassed.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Frank asked, crouching down on the floor to help her.</p><p>“Well I’ve always gotten a real tree before, so I don’t have an artificial one, but I suppose we can’t exactly go out and pick one up,” Mary explained, pausing to inspect a little snowman statuette for chips.</p><p>Frank thought it over for a minute, assessing the situation, before an idea came to him. Grabbing his phone, he tapped out a quick message before turning his attention back to the decorations in front of him. He just had to be able to fix this one thing for Mary, it was the least he could do.</p><p>“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he said with a smile. </p><p>Three hours later, the flat was feeling decidedly more festive and Mary and Frank were lounging on the sofa and watching a silly Christmas movie when there was a knock on the door. Mary looked at Frank with a startled and confused expression before getting up to answer the door, still wearing her lavender flannel pajamas.</p><p>When she pulled open the door, Mary let out a little gasp of delighted surprise. There, in the corridor before her, stood a man in a thick coat and a mask covering half his face and holding nothing other than a Christmas tree.</p><p>“Got a delivery for this apartment,” the man said gruffly, thrusting the tree forward as he spoke.</p><p>“But… how?” Mary stammered, still shocked by the mysterious delivery.</p><p>Frank appeared in the hallway behind her, smiling warmly.</p><p>“Did you do this?” Mary asked him, completely bewildered.</p><p>Before he could answer, the delivery man gently rustled the tree, regaining their attention.</p><p>“Mind taking this?” he said. “Only I’m not too keen to be out any longer than is necessary.”</p><p>“Of course, my apologies,” Mary answered, and she and Frank both rushed forward to grab the Christmas tree. Their hands brushed amidst the branches, and Mary looked up to find him standing much closer than she expected, his face so close. She could easily lean forward and kiss him, and her breath caught a little at the idea.</p><p>As soon as they had it firmly in their grasp, the delivery man quickly retreated, giving them a cursory wave goodbye. Mary and Frank -- mostly Frank, if they were being honest -- carried the tree into the living room, where Mary quickly found the stand and they set about getting it all set up. It was infinitely easier doing it with two people, so they had the tree standing up in no time at all, filling the flat with a delightful smell. </p><p>“How did you do this?” Mary asked Frank incredulously, deeply touched by the gesture.</p><p>“Called in a favour,” he shrugged, like it was no big deal at all that he’d gotten a real Christmas tree delivered to her flat in the middle of a pandemic lockdown. “I couldn’t let you not have a tree.”</p><p>“That’s very sweet,” she said, blushing brightly. </p><p>Frank was quiet, unsure how to respond. It had seemed like the natural thing to do, to get the tree, and he told himself he would have done the same for anyone. It didn’t matter one bit that Mary was sweet and beautiful and intelligent. He was absolutely not developing a crush on her. </p><p>“So, lights before ornaments, right?” Frank asked once they had the tree firmly secured in its stand. </p><p>Mary gave him a funny look, like he had grown a second head. </p><p>“What?” he prompted, confused.</p><p>“We can’t decorate it tonight,” she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We have to wait for the branches to fall.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” Frank asked, his confusion only deepening.</p><p>“Haven’t you ever decorated a Christmas tree before?” </p><p>“Not a real one,” he answered, shrugging.</p><p>“What!” Mary exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “How is that possible?”</p><p>“We don’t really do the whole chop down an evergreen thing in Oz, so the only trees I’ve ever decorated were fake,” Frank explained.</p><p>“That’s so sad!” she said, frowning. “Well, after it’s all wrapped up, you have to give the tree a day or so to rest so that the branches fall down again.”</p><p>“So tomorrow we decorate?” he asked, his expression both hopeful and teasing.</p><p>“Tomorrow we decorate,” Mary confirmed with a light laugh.</p><p>o . o . o</p><p>It ended up being five days before they could decorate their tree. The first night, they tried to wrap the lights around the branches only to find that two thirds of them no longer worked, and had to order more. Thanks to the delight of Amazon, it only took two more days for the new lights to arrive, but then Mary had gotten an email from her advisor saying that he needed her to draft an article they could submit to a journal that had issued a last-minute call for submissions, so she had spent most of the week glued to her computer at the small semicircular dining table.</p><p>Frank mostly spent the week trying not to bother Mary and be as helpful as he could to her. He wanted to be productive and write songs, but he couldn’t seem to find anything to write about or any words to express how he was feeling. Because mostly he was feeling nothing. A whole lot of tired and nothing. Which was baffling in itself for him, because he thought he would feel homesick, or frustrated at being stuck in a little flat with a basic stranger, or even annoyed with himself for not feeling much of anything. But honestly, the only times he felt anything were when Mary looked up at him and smiled her beautiful, shy smile.</p><p>On the fifth night, when Mary had finally submitted her article, Frank poured them both generous glasses of wine (which he had picked up secretly while out on their allotted grocery run for the week) and popped the lid off the box of ornaments. They started out hanging the ornaments together, taking turns unwrapping each one and hanging it on the tree. He was surprised to find that she didn’t have a perfectly curated collection of red and gold baubles as he’d expected, but instead had a collection of eccentric little ornaments from different places and times. Before they got the tree half decorated, however, Frank began to feel like something was missing from the moment, and he put down his ornament and moved over to the piano.</p><p>Lifting the lid to reveal the keys, he let his long fingers hover over the keys for a moment before he began to play. He started with Silent Night and then kept going, cycling through a host of Christmas carols. He caught the small smile on Mary’s face when she looked over at him and felt his heart leap at the sight of it. When he began to play I Believe in Father Christmas, Mary sang with a soft voice. It wasn’t perfect - not a professional singer topping the charts - but it was still quite pleasant, and Frank thought he’d be more than happy to listen to her sing for the rest of the night.</p><p>“That’s my favourite Christmas song,” Mary admitted when he had finished, and Frank turned on the piano bench so he could see her.</p><p>“Mine too,” he said, smiling warmly. “But I wouldn’t have pegged you for that one.”</p><p>“No?” She raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity.</p><p>“It’s got a bit of a darker edge to it, and you seem so positive,” he answered. “I would’ve thought you’d be one for Mariah Carey or Elton John. Those big, upbeat Christmas anthems.”</p><p>Mary shrugged, hanging another ornament on the tree.</p><p>“Actually, I like the quieter ones best. The Christmas Canon, A Spaceman Came Traveling, Mistletoe and Wine,” she explained. “I just feel like Christmas should be… more intimate and personal, not some big production.”</p><p>“That’s a nice thought, and probably one that’ll come true this year,” Frank replied. “Those are all great songs though. The Christmas Canon is absolutely beautiful.”</p><p>“I absolutely love The Christmas Canon. When I get married, <em> that’s </em>what I want to walk down the aisle to, not the stupid wedding march,” Mary laughed.</p><p>“Are you seeing someone?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to pretend that he didn’t really care about the answer.</p><p>“Oh, no,” she said, blushing a little. “I didn’t mean to sound like I have the whole thing planned out or anything. I just don’t really like the traditional wedding song, that’s all.”</p><p>“It’s okay, I wasn’t judging or anything,” he laughed. “I think it’s pretty well established that women dream about their wedding day, you’re allowed to know one or two things you want.”</p><p>“What about you, are you seeing anyone?” Mary asked. </p><p>“No, no, I don’t really…” he paused, rethinking his words. “I’m not sure that I really believe in romance anymore. Or at least, I’m not sure that love is compatible with my life.”</p><p>“Oh, that sounds like there’s a story there,” she teased, looking over at him with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. </p><p>“Let’s just say I have first-hand experience in loving somebody you shouldn’t,” Frank replied cryptically. </p><p>“That’s hardly an answer,” Mary said, moving to the couch and grabbing the violet throw blanket she kept draped over the back, tossing it over her legs as she settled. “You are staying in my house after all, I feel like you owe me the story.”</p><p>“How many times will you use that excuse?” he asked with a wry smile. “There’s honestly not much of a story to tell. Her name was Alice and she quite thoroughly broke my heart. I thought she supported my dreams and all that I wanted to accomplish but really she just wanted to change me into the kind of man she wanted. It was toxic and comfortable and it took me ages to walk away for good.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she answered with a frown. It certainly wasn’t what she had expected him to say.</p><p>“Probably set my career back a decent bit, but they say everything happens how it’s supposed to, right?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Mary was quiet for a moment as she considered what Frank had told her. Something seemed… not quite wrong, not like he was lying to her, but more like she was missing something. There was a piece of the puzzle missing. Nevertheless, she appreciated that he had opened up and shared such a personal story with her.</p><p>“If you could change the past, would you?” she asked, fiddling with a loose thread in her blanket. “Change the heartbreak? Be the person she wanted?”</p><p>“Nah,” Frank answered quickly with a smile and a jerk of his head. “I like my life and I don’t think I would trade it for anything. Besides, being alone doesn’t have to mean being lonely.”</p><p>“No it doesn’t,” Mary smiled sweetly. </p><p>As they sat there on either side of Mary’s small living room, neither of them had ever felt less lonely.</p><p>o . o . o</p><p>During the days, Frank would sit at the piano, playing spontaneous, delicate sounding melodies and occasionally scribbling notes on a legal pad. Mary would sit at the little dining table, her headphones in when she really needed to focus on her latest dissertation chapter, but otherwise listening to Frank’s tinkerings while she worked. They had a comfortable sort of cohabitation, but the best part was always the evening. </p><p>Every night, Frank and Mary would find a recipe they wanted to try or one they wanted to teach the other, and set about making it in the kitchen. More often than not, they would devolve into fits of laughter and make something of a mess, but they invariably had fun. </p><p>“So what are some of your Christmas traditions?” Frank asked one night, just after sliding a sheet of cookies into the oven.</p><p>“Well, my family would bake lots,” Mary said, hopping up onto the countertop. “Mum and Kate and I would make gingerbread cookies and butter cookies and chocolate peppermint swirl cookies, thumbprint cookies and probably ten other kinds. We had kind of… untraditional traditions. We had cottage pie for Christmas Eve dinner and Mum does a big roast for Christmas Day. What do you do?”</p><p>“It’s been a while since I’ve been home for Christmas,” he admitted. “The last few years I’ve tried to find a nice pub to have dinner and I call my family for a while. But when I was little… mostly I remember the Lamingtons. It’s not a traditional Christmas food or anything, but they’re my mum’s favourite so she always made them. And on Boxing Day our neighbours would have a massive street party and barbecue. We’d go to Christmas Eve Mass as well, that was a big thing. I still try to do that, when I can.”</p><p>“I love Christmas Mass,” Mary replied, meeting his eyes. “It’s always so beautiful.” </p><p>“It is,” Frank agreed, nodding. “And probably the only time that the kids even came close to behaving themselves.”</p><p>“Oh no,” Mary laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Were you a terrible child?”</p><p>“Ahh, I don’t know if I’d say <em> terrible </em>, but I certainly had my moments,” Frank replied, his cheeks turning a bit pink as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “And when all the cousins were together… boy things could get messy.”</p><p>“How so?” she asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.</p><p>“Well we would make up games and they were inevitably dangerous or messy,” he explained. “There was this one, Blob, that was sort of like Marco Polo, except on land. The “blob” got covered with a duvet and had to try to tag people, but you could whack the blob with couch cushions or sticks or whatever, as long as you didn’t touch them. There were lots of injuries from that one, but by far the worst was when my cousin Ash knocked a television set over onto sister and broke her arm. Kate was absolutely livid. It’s pretty funny to think about now.”</p><p>“Probably not so much at the time though,” Mary observed.</p><p>“No, not so much.”</p><p>“Tell me more,” she prompted, and with a smile, Frank gladly obliged.</p><p>“Well, every Christmas, since all the cousins would be together, we would play a game we called Flour Power, and it was a bit like manhunt, only instead of tagging people, you threw fistfuls of flour at them,” Frank said.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Mary gasped, slightly horrified by the image she had conjured in her mind.</p><p>“Yeah, you can imagine the mess,” he laughed, amused by her reaction.</p><p>“My mum would’ve had an absolute fit if we’d ever tried anything like that,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I think she might’ve killed us.</p><p>“Oh come on,” Frank replied with a snort, “we were children. You think our parents were worried about a little food fight? Besides, all the flour came out from a good washing every time.” </p><p>Mary wrinkled her nose halfheartedly, thinking of trying to wash flour from her skin and hair and imagining the mess.</p><p>“I feel bad for your mum, having to pick bits of flour from your hair. I’d shave your entire head as punishment for putting her through that,” she stated, matter-of-factly.</p><p>Amused, Frank quirked an eyebrow while his smile shifted slyly, a devious plan occurring to him. </p><p>“Is that so?” he asked, taking a step closer.</p><p>The dark-haired woman folded her arms and nodded firmly. Amused or not, she meant her words. “It is,” she said. </p><p>She didn’t notice his hand had been moving closer to the bowl of flour and sugar near the sink. Nor did she notice when his hand had slipped into said bowl and gripped a handful of the mixture. All Mary saw was a burst of white power coming at her with little to no time to get away from it. She shrieked, covered in a layer of flour that turned her skin an even brighter white and dyed her hair grey. She scowled, knowing there was only one way to settle this.</p><p>Grabbing a fistful of flour from the bag beside her, she threw it at Frank, ready to watch it coat his skin with satisfaction. But Frank didn’t miss a  beat. She had barely released her fistful when his hand was already diving into the bowl once more, pulling out more. They squealed and laughed as flour coated every surface of the kitchen, including every inch of their bodies. If she were thinking about it, Mary would probably be horrified by the thought that half of her apartment would be coated in a fine white dust in five minutes. As it was, she was too busy having fun participating in their little mini food fight. </p><p>Looking at Frank, his light brown hair striped with white, tanned skin made pale by the flour, Mary couldn’t stop laughing. It looked so bizarre, his eyes turning red as the flour irritated them. She was sure she looked equally ridiculous, but Mary found that she didn’t care. </p><p>Frank drew even closer to her, holding a fistful of flour threateningly above her head with a mad grin across his face.</p><p>‘Okay, okay, you win!” she laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.</p><p>Frank leaned, in, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, just a few centimeters away from her jeans.</p><p>“Say it again, Mary,” he whispered, his blue eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips.</p><p>“You win,” she breathed, the air in the room suddenly shifting to a thick tension.</p><p>He was far too close to her, his face only inches away. Frank stood between her legs, powder-covered hands planted on the counter on either side of her waist, face and hair covered in flour, and somehow Mary thought nobody had ever looked more attractive. She could feel his breath on her skin, warm and inviting. She felt the urge to kiss him, to pull him close. Mary felt certain that Frank could hear her heart racing and feel the thick tension that had fallen between them like a curtain. She could hardly think through the fog, could barely process anything other than a desperate curiosity to know how his lips would feel against hers.</p><p>Frank stepped away first. He looked as shaken as Mary felt, and for a brief moment she wondered if perhaps the attraction hadn’t been one sided. But that was a silly thought. After all, if he’d felt it too, surely he would have just kissed her. There was no point in thinking about it any further, and Mary would have to try her very best to put all thoughts of Frank and his attractiveness from her mind. Besides, it was just physical, that was all. It would be positively absurd to have feelings for someone who had been a stranger to her not even two weeks ago.</p><p>o . o . o</p><p>Mary awoke early on Christmas day, a giddy sense of excitement filling her stomach with butterflies like a child excited to see what Santa had brought. She didn’t quite understand what was giving her this feeling - there would be no family visit this year, no Santa, no heaps of presents under the tree. Well, there were still quite a lot of presents, but they were all outgoing, jumpers and scarves and hats that Mary had been diligently knitting for her family for weeks. Nothing for her. Still, Mary vaulted out of bed and pulled on some clean clothes - a light pink turtleneck jumper, a pair of fleece-lined leggings, and some festive socks - before ducking into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she had finished, she made her way to the living room, carrying a small box with a gift for Frank, hoping that she had beaten him to waking up so she could slip it unnoticed under the tree. </p><p>She was not so lucky, however, stepping into the living room to find a breakfast feast laid out on the coffee table. There was toast, bangers and mash, scrambled eggs, cinnamon buns, bacon, and a plate of cookies they had been baking over the course of the week. As Mary marveled at the spread in front of her, Frank emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee and two champagne flutes.</p><p>“Happy Christmas!” Frank beamed, so clearly proud of his handiwork as he placed the coffee on the table.</p><p>“Happy Christmas,” Mary replied, feeling quite touched. She couldn’t quite believe he had gone through all this effort to surprise her.</p><p>“Is it alright? Have I done something wrong?” he said, his expression suddenly shifting to concern, seeing that she hadn’t fully reacted yet. “I promise I’ve cleaned it all - well most - up as well.”</p><p>“It’s perfect, thank you!” she said, rushing over and enveloping him in a hug. </p><p>Mary could feel Frank relax into the hug, and for a moment things felt tense, as if the two of them were treading water in an ocean of deep emotions. When she pulled away, Mary felt a bit awkward, struggling to make sense of all the feelings swirling around in her heart. Trying to cover her discomfort and regain a bit of control over herself, Mary cleared her throat and held the neatly-wrapped gift in her hands out to Frank. </p><p>“It’s not much, just something small, but I thought you ought to have something for Christmas,” she said, feeling a blush staining her cheeks bright pink.</p><p>“Thank you!” Frank replied, startling Mary by leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek in gratitude.</p><p>He sat down on the couch and Mary followed his lead, scooping up a sticky cinnamon roll in her fingers as she sat.</p><p>“Should I open it now?” Frank asked, looking at the little box on his lap.</p><p>“Sure,” Mary shrugged. “It’s just the one present, so it’ll be a quick Christmas, but…”</p><p>She let the rest of her sentence drift off as Frank slid one finger under the folded wrapping paper, pulling at the tape. He was a very tidy unwrapper, his method more unfolding than tearing, which Mary found oddly endearing. He lifted the lid off the box and set it aside, and carefully extracted his gift from inside. It was simple - a sage green scarf with two thin, butter yellow stripes on each end - but Frank smiled widely as he ran his hands over the soft yarn.</p><p>“You made this?” he asked in awe, and Mary nodded. “Thank you. Really, this is beautiful.”</p><p>“It’s not much, honestly, but -”</p><p>“It’s amazing, and I love it,” Frank said earnestly. “Thank you.”</p><p>For a moment, Mary thought he was going to lean forward and hug her, or maybe even kiss her cheek again, and her heartbeat raced at the thought. But he didn’t. Frank laid his treasured scarf carefully on the coffee table and then stood, fidgeting anxiously with his hands as he crossed the room.</p><p>“I’ve got you a present too,” he said, sitting down at the piano. “See, it occurred to me that you don’t know what it feels like to fall in love with you, but it’s quite an experience, and I thought I ought to show you. Or at least try to.”</p><p>Before Mary could say anything, Frank’s fingers were dancing ever so deftly across the piano keys, twisting together pieces of the melodies she had heard him practicing for the last week.</p><p>“<em> It's a fairytale I can't explain, full of words I don't know how to say </em>,” Frank began to sing, his voice light and clear, but still laden with emotion. </p><p><em> And without a little twist of fate </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I know I'd still be searching, darling </em> <em><br/></em> <em> but I can't pretend like I'm not falling in love </em></p><p>He picked up the speed of his fingers over the keys, adding a bit of bounce to the bridge.</p><p><em> You might just be my everything and </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I wonder what it's like to be loved by you </em></p><p>Frank glanced over his shoulder at Mary, giving her a shy smile as he continued to play a brief interlude, turning his attention back to the piano when it was time to sing the chorus.</p><p><em> This feeling doesn't fade no matter how hard I try </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I always think about it at the same time every night </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I just shut my eyes, all I have to do </em> <em><br/></em> <em> i </em> <em> s dream, dream, dream about you </em></p><p>Mary felt her breath sticking in her lungs, overwhelmed at the words filling the air around her. Did Frank mean them? Were they just poetry or were they real sentiment?</p><p><em> You smile when you say my name and </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I love the way that you dance across the room </em> <em><br/></em> <em> make me wanna grab your hand and pull you back </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Tell me, have I lost my mind again? </em> <em><br/></em> <em> ‘Cause I can't pretend </em> <em><br/></em> <em> like I'm not falling in love </em></p><p>As he repeated the bridge and the chorus again, Frank closed his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows together in focus and sincerity. Mary could feel the emotion emanating from him, tugging at her heartstrings.</p><p><em> Met a lot of people but nobody feels like you </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Your personality and everything brings me to my knees, oh </em> <em><br/></em> <em> You make me feel home, oh </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Do you think I'm being foolish if I don't rush in? </em></p><p>Mary had to fight her every urge, longing to move towards Frank and pull him into an embrace, maybe even kiss him. Heat rose to the surface of her skin at the idea. She wanted to tell him that yes, he should rush in. In her whole life, she’d never wanted to rush into anything more. Frank continued his song, the melody ebbing into something soft and calm as he sang the last chorus.</p><p><em> You might just be my everything and </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I wonder what it's like to be loved by you </em></p><p><em> This feeling doesn't fade no matter how hard I try </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I always think about it at the same time every night </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I just shut my eyes, all I have to do </em> <em><br/></em> <em> i </em> <em> s dream, dream, dream about you </em></p><p>Frank turned around, his eyes finding Mary’s, fixing her with an emotional look as he let the final chords of the song hang in the air, the final two lines sung at nearly a whisper.</p><p><em> So please don't wake me if I'm dreamin' </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Whenever I'm with you </em></p><p>As quiet enveloped them once more, Frank looked a bit apprehensive. He had <em> written her a song. </em> And not just any old song, but a love song. A declaration of his feelings. He had laid it all bare for her. Mary stood and crossed the room until she was right next to Frank, and reached out to run her fingers through his hair. </p><p>“Thank you,” she whispered, finding it hard to speak through all the emotions. “That’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”</p><p>Frank’s hand drifted up to rest on her hip, a firm but tentative grasp. Mary let him pull her down gently until she was sitting on his lap. Once more, she reached up to brush a strand of his light brown hair back from his forehead, this time tracing her thumb delicately back down over his cheek until her hand came to rest cradling his jaw. For a moment, they just looked into each other’s eyes, feeling the weight of the melodic declaration. Mary knew that she had to make the next move, make sure that Frank knew exactly where she stood and where she felt. She couldn’t hope to match the eloquence of his song, and so she knew the best thing she could possibly do was to act. Slowly, deliberately, Mary leaned in and pressed her lips to Frank’s. He reciprocated immediately, his hand tightening on her waist. His lips were soft against hers and Mary felt like her heart might explode, it was so full and so light at the same time.. </p><p>When she broke the kiss, Frank leaned forward to chase her lips, and the motion made her even more reticent to pull away. So she didn’t, leaning her forehead against his and letting her nose brush over the tip of his. Frank let his hand wind through the lengths of Mary’s hair, fingertips playing with the ends of the dark strands.</p><p>“Do you know,” Mary whispered, smiling as she spoke, “I think I’m quite taken with you. ”</p><p>o . o . o</p><p>In the days after Christmas, Mary and Frank settled into a new kind of normal as far as their cohabitation went. During the day, little was different, but at night, small changes began to seep into their world. But at night they stole little touches and eliminated the space between them. Frank’s fingers hovered over Mary’s waist while they cooked together at night, unwilling to let her out of arm’s reach, and when they sat down to watch tv, Mary curled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. They no longer said goodnight and went their separate ways at the end of the night, but cuddled together under Mary’s duvet.</p><p>A week passed in the blissful fantasy of new love before the troubles of real life began to make themselves known again. On New Year’s Day, Mary was sitting at her makeshift desk running a program to scrape text from online for her analysis and listening to the radio while she waited. </p><p>“Well my dears, we’ve been teasing it all morning, but it’s finally time!” the broadcaster announced, her voice conspiratorial and excited. “We have a brand new song courtesy of Frank Longbottom to start off the new year, and goodness me is it heavenly.”</p><p>“It is!” her cohost echoed. “You can tell it was recorded in quarantine, but for an acoustic song, I think it really holds up to other pop ballads. I’d be curious to see how a fully orchestrated version sounds though.”</p><p>“I’m just curious to know who it’s about!” </p><p>Both hosts laughed.</p><p>“Well, let’s hope we get some answers - or at least some clues - soon! For now, let’s take a listen to the song in question.”</p><p>The familiar sound of a piano melody piqued Mary’s attention before the words she had memorized in the last week floated through her headphones. <em> It’s a fairytale I can’t explain, full of words I don’t know how to say. </em> Her heart sank as a series of realizations struck her. The man sitting in her living room wasn’t a mere songwriter, he was none other than Frank Longbottom, indie-pop sensation. And he had released their song. Their song that she thought he had written just for her, that she never thought would be out in the world, was now being streamed by thousands of people, if not more. Anyone who wanted to could listen to their story. And they wouldn’t even know that it was all based in a lie.</p><p>“Mary? Are you alright?” Frank asked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a glass of water and a concerned look on his face.</p><p>“How could you do it?” she replied, looking at him with eyes tearing up. “How could you lie to me?”</p><p>“Lie? What are you talking about?” he said, confusion mixed with a bit of panic clouding his expression.</p><p>“You tricked me!” Mary hissed, standing from her chair and taking a step back. Her eyes were wide and a feeling of betrayal surged through her. “You pretended to be normal, just average Frank! Just a songwriter. Not a massively famous singer! You never said a word! You <em> lied! </em>”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mary,” he answered, reaching out to her, even as she took another step back. “I thought you recognized me at first, I thought that’s why you invited me to stay. And when I realized I was wrong, it just seemed like a good chance to just be normal. People act differently around me, Mary, I never get to meet anyone and just have them get to know me.”</p><p>“But why would you release our song?” she asked, still feeling utterly horrified. “Oh my god. You didn’t actually write that for me, did you? It was just some… some stock song! I’m so <em> stupid!” </em></p><p>“No! Is… is that truly what you think of me?” Frank said, his expression shifting to one of hurt.</p><p>“I don’t know what to think of you!” Mary replied. “What sort of person lies to another person while living with them for <em> weeks? </em>  Lets them <em> fall in love </em> with you?”</p><p>“Look, why… why can’t we just start over?” Frank pleaded, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You’ll see, I’m exactly the same person you thought, I promise.”</p><p>“That’s not how it works,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s no reset button. I can’t just forget.” </p><p>Frank stood there, looking utterly stunned. How had they gotten to this moment? Half an hour ago, everything had been perfect, and now it was imploding around them. How could this be happening? And how could he fix it? He understood that Mary felt lied to and betrayed, but he needed to make her see that it wasn’t true. The real Frank was the one she had gotten to know over weeks in lockdown. </p><p>“Mary, please, just give me a chance to show you -”</p><p>“No! All your lies… all your secrets… I’m done,” Mary said, shaking her head and taking another step back. “You can stay here, but this is over.”</p><p>“This can’t be how our story ends,” Frank whispered, his heart already breaking.</p><p>“I’m not sure we ever even had a story.”</p><p>With that, Mary turned and retreated to her room. Frank sank down into the seat that she had vacated, laying his face in his hands with his elbows resting on the table top. He had made such a mess of things. Dismay soon turned to anger as he realized that he too had been betrayed.</p><p>Frank had never released his song purposely, and only a handful of people had heard it. So who exactly had sent it to the radio stations? Obviously it couldn’t have been Mary. His mum and his sister probably wouldn’t even know who to send it to. Really the only plausible options were Kingsley or Davey. Frank thought it over. He had trusted Kingsley, his best friend and a fellow musician, to give him feedback on the song and tell him honestly if it was ready. The tough love type, Kingsley had occasionally been known to go too far when pushing Frank to take a step forward. But he didn’t think that Kingsley would go so far as to leak one of his songs without his knowledge, especially not when he knew how much the song meant. But Davey… his manager never seemed to know when not to cross the boundaries, and the more Frank thought about it, the more certain he was that leaking this song was exactly something Davey would do.</p><p>Frank pulled out his phone and opened his contacts, scrolling until he found Davey’s name. He was about to press the call button when he realized that it was 2am in Sydney. Tomorrow then. Tomorrow, there would be a reckoning for Davey Gudgeon.</p><p>o . o . o</p><p>Frank woke early in the morning, determined to have it out with Davey. In truth, he’d slept little the night before, thinking about what exactly he would say and how best to act. He’d known Davey for a long time - since they were just teenagers,  goofing around in Perth - and he knew that nothing so simple as a telling off would have any effect on Davey. Truth be told, Frank knew that the time had come to part ways with his manager. The partnership just wasn’t working anymore. But he hated delivering bad news and this was almost definitely not going to go smoothly.</p><p>He stood and paced the guest bedroom as the phone rang, anxious to get this call over with.</p><p>“Longbottom!” Davey greeted jovially when he finally picked up.</p><p>“Hey, mate,” Frank replied. “Look I’ve got a problem.”</p><p>“Uh oh, what’ve you gotten yourself into?” Davey asked. </p><p>“I didn’t give you permission to release that song, Dave,” Frank said, getting straight down to business. “I know you sent it in, and it’s not okay.”</p><p>“Frank, that song is great, it had to be out there!” Davey argued.</p><p>“That wasn’t your choice to make!” Frank yelled in reply, his temper getting the better of him. “Even if I did want that song out there eventually, I would have wanted to record it in a studio setup, maybe get some more instruments added in. But I didn’t want that. The song wasn’t about creating a single or promoting an album, it was about telling someone how I feel and conveying my heart. And my heart is not open for commercialization.”</p><p>“Selling your heart is exactly what this industry is all about,” Davey answered stubbornly. “You can’t pass up the opportunity with a song like that.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, Davey, it wasn’t your decision,” Frank replied, shaking his head. “Look, the bottom line is this - I don’t think this is going to work anymore. We’ve hit the end of our professional relationship. You’ve done a great job as my manager thus far, but I just… I just don’t think we can keep moving forward.”</p><p>“Frank -”</p><p>“No, I’m sorry, mate, but I’ve made my decision,” Frank stated sternly. “We can have a sort of exit interview or something when I get back to Sydney but you can consider yourself no longer my representative effective immediately.”</p><p>After a cursory goodbye, Frank hung up the phone, briefly sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting his head in his hands before quickly vaulting back up. He was too agitated to sit still. Crossing the room in only a few strides, Frank pulled open the bedroom door, nearly colliding headfirst with Mary. He hadn’t realized that his conversation with Davey had been loud enough to wake her. Loud enough to draw her from her bed. Loud enough that she’d heard every word. Mary stood in the little hallway, gaping at him, completely at a loss for words.</p><p>“Mary, I -”</p><p>“You didn’t do it,” she stated ambiguously, cutting Frank’s sentence short.</p><p>“I…?” He frowned at her, trying to work out the right words.</p><p>“You didn’t sell the song,” she clarified, taking a step closer.</p><p>“No,” he confirmed. “Mary, I swear to you, I had no intention of releasing that song. I wrote it for you, and I meant every word of it. The only person I cared about hearing that song was you, and I would quite happily never play it for another soul.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” Mary said, blushing a little in embarrassment.</p><p>“I understand why you did,” he answered, reaching out to take her hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I am from the start.”</p><p>“I understand why you didn’t,” she echoed, a slight smile pulling at the corner of her lips. </p><p>Mary stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Frank’s waist and tucking her head against his chest. He pressed his lips to her hair, closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. <em> This, </em> they both thought, <em> this is what love is supposed to feel like. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HSWW, Term 14, Assignment 1 | Gryffindor | Cursebreaking, Task 2 | Write about a musician. Alt: Write a Rockstar!AU</p><p>Fantastic Beasts | 171. Siren | Write about singing for someone or serenading someone<br/>Scavenger Hunt | 21. Write a story about someone heterosexual</p><p>365 | 114. [dialogue] “If you could change the past, would you?”</p><p>Gryffindor Auction | Day 17, Auction 4 | [dialogue] “Let’s just say I have first-hand experience in loving somebody you shouldn’t.”</p><p>Shadows of the Den | He Said, She Said | MaryFrank | [dialogue] “Is...is that truly what you think of me?”</p><p>Hallmark Holiday Challenge | 18. Good Morning Christmas! | Write about a character who is in the public eye</p><p>Resolution Evolution | Writing Resolutions | 14. Write a fic with a ship that includes your favourite character with a pair you’ve never written before</p><p> </p><p>Winter Seasonal Prompts</p><p>Days of the Year | Feb 5th, National Shower with a Friend Day | Write a roommates!au</p><p>Crochet Week | 9. V Double Crochet Stitch | [object] blanket</p><p>Penguin Awareness | 12. Snares Penguin | [object] duffel bag</p><p>Colours | 15. Lavender</p><p>Flowers | 12. Glory of the Snow | [dialogue] “Why can’t we just start over?”</p><p>Tarot Reading | 6. The Fool | Write about someone following their heart</p><p>Slytherin Challenge | N | [word] new</p><p> </p><p>January Writing Club</p><p>Character Appreciation | 12. Roommate!AU</p><p>Record Collection | 2. Say It Again, Precious | [dialogue] “Say it again, [name].”</p><p>Showtime | 8. You Will Still Be Mine | [action] singing</p><p>Amber’s Apothecary | 5. Rose Petals | Write about someone falling in love</p><p>Elizabeth’s Empire | 10. [object] jumper</p><p>Liza’s Loves | 17. Firbolg | Write about someone who is charitable</p><p>Scamander’s Case | 8. [trait] helpful</p><p>Film Festival | 14. [action] singing</p><p>Lyric Alley | 6. This can’t be how our story ends</p><p>TV Spree | 2. Musician!AU</p><p>The Forecast Says | 14th: Snow | [trait] generous</p><p>Hobby Hole | 1. [word] chapter</p><p>World Tour | 23. [dialogue] “You don’t know what it feels like to fall in love with you.” - Lose My Mind by Dean Lewis</p><p> </p><p>Monthlies &amp; Fortnightlies</p><p>New Year | 3. [scenario] help from a stranger</p><p>Magical Menagerie | 23. White Cat | [weather] snowy</p><p>Tea Room | 8. Earl Grey Tea | [colour] violet</p><p>Founder Says | Salazar Says: Something Angsty | 10. “All of your lies...all of your secrets… I’m done.”</p><p>The Trope Zone | Danger Zone - 4. Tol &amp; Smol | Optional Prompts - 1. [color] ruby red</p></blockquote></div></div>
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